Descent of a Salesman
by thelonehuman
Summary: A prequel to Majora's Mask concerning the Happy Mask Salesman and the Mask itself.


Night had fallen long ago outside of the Happy Mask Shop, and those sane enough to have noticed had retreated indoors. What had once been a light rain had intensified into a thunderstorm of epic proportions, and not even the usual beggars could be found outside. The town was dark, its townsfolk opting to sleep through the terrible night rather than face it. The red haired man couldn't blame them.

He had woken up suddenly, alarmed by a nightmare in which a pair of orange eyes stared at him until he was driven insane, and gone to work in his workshop. His niece, Annabella, lay sleeping in the adjacent room, and he worked quietly. Inspecting the masks wasn't usually a loud job, but occasionally he would come across one that was... Different. Such as the one that had arrived that day.

It wasn't unusual for the Happy Mask Salesman to receive masks in the mail, nor was it unusual for him to find travelers who donated their masks to his massive collection for some rupees. However, it was unusual for a mask to show up in his bedroom in an unmarked box. He had gone to bed the night before, and there it lay. A mahogany box containing The Mask. Majora's Mask. A legend, something that he had never thought he would see. He had immediately disregarded its unusual appearance in his home and went to research it, but found himself nearly unable to separate his thoughts from it.

And now it tempted him again. The legends had spoken of unbelievable power. Immortality, eternal youth, strength, everything a person could ever desire. But there were also whispers of a curse. So terrible that nobody had lived to write it down. And yet... He stared at it across his workbench, and he could have sworn it was staring back. And then...

A dream. That's what it felt like, he decided. A dream. His body. Not in his control. Putting on the mask. His screaming, waking up Annabella. She walked out, yelled. Blackness. Rain. Night. Dark. Travelers... What did he-? Best not to think about it, the voice said. The mask. That's what it was. But...

The Mask Salesman woke up in the forest, the mask floating above the ground. It was staring at him, like in his nightmares. He remembered nothing after putting on the mask, except in small snippets. He had no idea where he was. It was raining. He was in his usual clothes, and carried his merchandise on his back.

"Where-?"

The voice was inside his head, cold and unforgiving, "The Lost Woods... Part of them."

"What-?"

"It is of no concern to you."

The mask salesman got up and rubbed his head, wincing with pain. He felt his mind splitting. There was himself, and there was... Something else. Something Other. A thought came to his mind, the sane half, and his eyese widened.

"Annabella..." The memories struck him, one by one. "You-!"

"We."

The mask salesman felt himself falling, saw the vomit in the road, but didn't register any of it. Annabella, she was-

"She's not dead. Not completely. But she will not recover. Not unless you defeat me, my puppet, which will not occur. Our paths are about to diverge, forevermore."

The mask salesman lay in the road, unable to think. Unable to speak. Unable. What had the mask done to him? Finally, he rose to his knees, the pack on his back weighing him down. "What do you- What do you mean?"

The mask lay on the ground, stationary as it had been the day that he found it. Warily, he walked up towards it and picked it up.

"I'll destroy you."

"No, my puppet, I do not think that you will."

A noise behind his back. The salesman turned and found himself facing an imp of some sort, accompanied by two fairies. He felt the blow to his head and crumpled instantly.

When he woke up, the mask was gone. He knew it would be. There was a lump on his head, covered by his hair, but nothing else wrong. He rose to his feet, his mouth twitching between a manic smile and a worried frown. There had to be a way to get it back. No, he didn't want it back. He needed someone. Someone to use as a... Puppet. Yes, that was it. He smiled darkly, giving into the diseased side of his brain. Yes, and there was a human, a hero. Yes, perfect.

He made his way to the clocktower, watching as the mask, and he was certain that it was the mask and not the imp behind it, turn the human into a Deku Scrub. Better. He took a step and found himself ahead, inside Clock Town's clocktower. One of the pwoers bestowed by the mask, no doubt. He stood, facing the doors, until he heard footsteps behind him, coming to a stop. Slowly, what had once been the Happy Mask Salesman turned.

"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"


End file.
